All's Fair in Love and War
by I Swear On The Styx
Summary: I've been in love with Mark, a son of Athena, for years. But until my dad, Ares, pushed us together for a quest, he didn't pay me any attention. And then suddenly, I'm thrown into his world on the search for three golden apples. (OC/OC. A son of Ares and a son of Athena.)
1. Chapter 1

**Hi guys! I'm Riley, author of Elena's story, if you're familiar with any of our other stories on this account.**

**This takes place in between part 1 and 2 of Elena/Emilie's stories, which is one year after part 1, a year before part 2. For those of you who don't have any idea of what that means, this is roughly the year 2014, when Percy is 20 years old. **

**Disclaimer:**** I own a lot of OCs with Whitney, but I do not own any of the characters from the books.**

**WARNING****: There **_**will **_**be spoilers from every single PJO book. **

**-xxx-**

I'd fought, and not died, in a full-out war when I was eleven, after Silena tricked us into fighting. That hardly scared me. I was a son of the _war_ god. That's the kind of stuff we live for. I was claimed when I was ten, after a week of fending off the Hermes campers and kicking ass at javelin throwing. My sister, Clarisse, had liked me immediately. I'd never be caught dead telling her, but she reminds me of my mom, Margret Venn. It had a lot to do with the way she was really tough on the outside, but _could_ be wounded if you pushed the right buttons. And I had always been really good at pushing buttons. I figured that out when I left. I never got to say sorry. I wouldn't have, anyway.

I'd been going to some 'juvenile delinquents'' school for the past few years when I met this huge guy- and when I say 'met,' I mean that he tried to kill me. It turned out he was a giant- I can't remember how exactly, but I killed it. And then things started to get a _lot_ worse. I was getting into fights with monsters all the time, and then this nerdy kid, the one who I always threatened to shove head-first in the toilet, started telling me I was a half-blood, and that he was some half-goat thing. I didn't listen to him, until he showed up at my house and then my mom started telling me to listen. We got into some fight, which we rarely did, and I left. The satyr took me to Camp Half-Blood, where I've been ever since.

I get along with my half-sibs pretty well. Of course, 'getting along with' in the Ares cabin means picking on, beating up, and stealing the items of. And everyone else, especially the Poseidon kid, Percy Jackson, or something, even though we all have a little bit of respect for the guy since he raged full-out war with the toughest guy out there.

Life is pretty simple. Beat up, get beaten up, sneer at the other campers when they do something amusing. We really aren't as smart as Athena's, the fellow War goddess', kids, but we knew our way around camp. Anything that makes you weak is out. Love is somewhat of a strange subject for us, considering our dad is dating the love goddess, but most of us eventually find someone. Like Clarisse, and her boyfriend Chris. They've been thinking about getting married. I never expressed interest in anyone, and my sibs aren't exactly the type to try and set anyone up with someone, so I never dated. Because, not once in my six years at camp, had I told a single person the truth.

I'm gay.

-xxx-

Not all of the cabins were participating in the race, but like always, the Poseidon/Athena team of Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase-Jackson, with their modified chariot, were in. Their chariot was the old Athena one, silver, with an owl on top of a sea-green trident, led by white stallions. It was way too dainty for my taste. They made good competition, but that didn't mean _we_ weren't going to win. Ares won just as often as they did, and this time, _I _was driving. We don't _always_ win, I'll admit- the Hephaestus cabin rigs their chariot with a shit-ton of different devices that I'm sure we haven't seen the full extent of, and Hermes has a bunch of tricky bastards who may or may not play by the rules. I mean, it's not like we follow the rules either. All is fair in war, right?

I looked over our chariot, bloodred and wrapped with barbed wire, with our father's symbol, a boar and spear. It was crude and harsh, pulled by two skeletal horses that were provided by our father. As usual, they paid us no heed until the race actually started. It was a great chariot, alright, but it was nothing like my Dad's. Driving it is a right-of-passage for sons of Ares when they turn fifteen, and I'd driven it last year. Phobos and Deimos had tried to give me a hard time, but I'd held them off for just long enough to take it for a spin and then get it back to my dad.

One of my brothers was loading the chariot with boxes of caltrops, spiked balls, a sword or two, javelins and extra tips, spears, Greek fire, bronze nets, and lots of other things my javelin man was going to use against the other chariots. I was grinning already, this was my favorite sport.

"Red, here," my brother said, tossing me my helmet. I caught it with a _clang_, as it hit my breastplate.

Turning to check out the competition, I saw _him_, and I felt as if the wind was knocked out of me. Sucking in a deep breath, I risked another glance. Manning the other Athena chariot was Mark Clemens. I'd been in love with him for the past two years. Two summers, anyway- he was a summer camper. He's literally the smartest kid I know, athletic and outgoing, and could give anyone a run for their money in one-on-one combat. His honey-blonde hair stuck up at odd angles, and as I watched, his ice-gray eyes scanned the crowed, as if evaluating how to take them all down. I liked that in a guy.

His chariot was a different shade of silver than his sister's, although both chariots had the sign of their mother, the owl. It, like his sister's, had bronze reinforcements and white horses. His javelin man appeared to be one of his sisters, who was about his height- a few inches shorter than me- and had the same honey-blonde hair and lithe figure as he and all the other Athena kids. She leaned back against their chariot next to him and said something to him. It made him throw back his head in laughter.

Turning away before they had a chance to catch me looking, I looked at everyone else's chariots. Hermes' chariot looked rickety and like they had thrown it together at the last moment (and now that I think about it, I thought I remembered a few Hermes kids skip breakfast to get it done) with nails sticking out of it everywhere. I couldn't tell if that was by design or not. It was manned by the Stolls, who were hunched over something in their chariot. I knew from experience to keep an eye on them.

Apollo's chariot was solid gold, and if it was as weak as last time, it was going to be a piece of cake to demolish. They'd polished it so much I could see myself staring back. They say I look like my dad- stocky and muscular, with short, spiky brown hair and brown eyes- wicked handsome, I guess, but without _most_ of the scars. My position radiated dominance- I stood with my legs apart, my arms crossed, my head tilted up. I, like everyone else that was participating, was wearing armor over the Camp Half-Blood shirt I had grabbed from my bed that morning. It had been haphazardly thrown over the side of the bunk, and it _looked_ clean, so I'd put it on. Our cabin wasn't going to win any awards for cleanliness, and it wouldn't have passed inspection, had we not been the ones with inspection duty today. My jeans were full of holes, and one of my combat boots' shoelaces was untied.

I heard the metal whine of the Hephaestus chariot driving up, the last campers to show up- a little late, but no one really cared as long as they made it in time for the race. They were flanked by the rest of their cabin, who scattered at the sound of the conch horn, along with everyone else who wasn't racing. I climbed onto my chariot, which rocked slightly, but then settled back down. I pulled the reins, which made the horses whine, as my javelin man climbed aboard as well.

I maneuvered us to the starting line, where we were all starting to line up. "Charioteers," Chiron called, "Attend your mark!" Mr. D never bothered to get up before ten, so Chiron came alone.

The starting signal dropped at his command and we were off. The crowd was roaring and I could barely hear the rowdy cries of, "Kick their asses, Red!" and "You have to my chores if you loose!" from my cabin mates in the stands. They were the loudest, hooting and cheering at me. I reveled in it, grinning maliciously at the other Chariots.

Poseidon/Athena was down within the first ten yards. Their wheel was caught on Hephaestus', which dragged the two chariots along together for a few feet, while both parties frantically tried to unhook the wheels. With a wicked grin, Leo Valdez, who I didn't know well, although he seemed like a pretty decent guy, since he made a lot of cool weapons and most of my javelin tips, sliced off Percy and Annabeth's wheel before they had a chance to see what he was doing, yelling, "Sorry!" over his shoulder as they were pulled a few more feet on one wheel. The side of their chariot that had lost the wheel was dragging across the dirt as their chariot shook apart.

By this time, they had bailed out moments earlier, Percy yelling, "Jump!" and tumbling into the grass, with a few curses in ancient Greek about how they'd build better wheels and suspension next time. As her mother was the inventor of the chariot, I wouldn't doubt it.

I let out a bark of laughter, turning back to the race ahead. We were in second only to Athena. We were catching up to them when Apollo rammed into our side. The barbed wire scratched up their paint job, but they didn't seem to care too much.

"Shouldn't you runts be good at this?" I sneered, "Your dad drives one of these! Oh wait, he's never taken you out to practice, has he?"

They frowned and nodded at each other, switching places quickly. The one who had been driving bent down and scooped something up, throwing it at us. I realized too late that it was a weighted net. "Sherman!" I yelled at my brother, who grunted in acknowledgment. He brought one of the swords up, slicing through the netting. I veered left to avoid a bag of Greek fire that exploded on the track right in front of Hermes. They took one look at each other and dove to either side of the track before their chariot caught fire.

Two down, two ahead of us.

I signaled for Sherman to throw the caltrops, to slow down Hephaestus, who still hadn't caught up. We were entering our second lap when we caught up with Apollo. Their chariot might have been lighter, but ours could withstand a lot more stress. My brother took one of the javelins and used it to push Apollo behind us. He threw our own metal net on them, which made them loose control of their horses.

"Yeah!" Sherman yelled, and high-fived me.

We were approaching Athena, when Mark's sister said, "Shit. They're catching up!" only barely discernable above the noises of the track. We had half a lap to go, and we _had _to win. "_Go_!"

Behind us, Hephaestus and Apollo were duking it out, with one or the other getting ahead, only having the other pull them back with what looked like a hooked pole. Mark tugged on the reins and they sped ahead, but it was pointless, we were right behind them. Sherman was throwing balls and chains at their wheels, only narrowly missing each time, with the Athena girl knocking them off course. He used the pole to push aside Athena, making them skid only as long as it took us to get slightly ahead. They rammed into us, and it was neck and neck for the last few feet. We crossed the finish line to a roar of cheers.

The chariot stopped with Athena shortly behind, and a moment later, Hephaestus and Apollo. I held my arms up and cheered, while our cabin chanted our names from the stands, stomping and whooping, banging their weapons on the stands. Chiron came over to award us the golden laurels, which made our siblings yell and stomp even louder. But as soon as Chiron reached us, a wave of protest came from the Athena campers. My sibs poured from the stands and surged up to meet the approaching Athena campers. Sherman and I jumped down from our chariot at about the same time Mark and his sister jumped from theirs', to go join the fight.

Well, it wasn't an actual fight yet, just a bunch of angry kids yelling at each other, but it would be, if we had anything to say about it.

"They crossed the finish line first!" yelled one Athena boy. Clarisse knocked him back on his ass, but two more of them came up to meet her. She crossed her arms and glared at them.

"Oh yeah, you little punk?"

All of a sudden, my line of sight was blocked by a head of blonde hair. I took a step back when I realized who it was in my face. Mark was scowling, and said, "We were ahead of you!"

I took another step back but he matched me step for step, staying in my face. I didn't want to fight _him_, but if he kept pushing me… "We won. Somewhat fairly," I smirked. He shook his head, a sour look still on his face. He jabbed me in the chest with one of his fingers.

"You know we won! Our horses were ahead of yours!" he said, in my face. Anger was welling up inside me. I shoved him back roughly. A look of shock briefly flitted across his features, and I crossed my arms, smug. It wasn't easy to shock a son of Athena.

"Give it up, _Mark_," I sneered, putting all my anger and smugness into those words. Being a son of Ares meant I was always full of anger. "You're grasping at straws."

"Damn it, lets settle this," he spat wretchedly. "We'll ask Mr. D to tell us who _really_ won."

"Chiron was just about to hand us the golden laurels, who do you _think _won?" I laughed in his face. His eyes darkened, and he grabbed me by the shoulder strings of my breastplate, dragging me towards the big house. He was surprisingly strong for someone of his size. "Hey!" I protested, and tried halfheartedly to escape his grip. I ended up stumbling behind him. His chin was tiled upwards as he walked. He didn't even say anything to his sibs and they just followed him.

I nodded towards Clarisse, who called out, "Time to go settle this, kids!" and followed us up the hill. My brothers and sisters mingled with Mark's- who all had determined looks on their faces, just like he did- resuming their arguments. I sighed, it sounded a lot more weary than I had intended. Mark faltered, glancing back at me, and I couldn't tell what that look on his face was. He quickly looked back ahead of him, the stubbornly proud look that I liked taking it's normal place on his face.

He'd released me halfway up the hill when he was sure I'd follow, so I did. We gathered in front of the big house- all of Athena, Ares, and most of all the other cabins who came to eavesdrop- still in the midst of argument. It was escalating to the point of where everyone's weapon was half drawn.

"After we're finished I'll _personally_ make sure you guys have to do our chores!" one tiny Athena girl piped up, facing off my biggest brother, who towered over her. He was nearly twice her size, but she held her ground. It was something we had to respect about the Athena cabin, however much they pissed us off at any given time.

A few feet away, one of my brothers was pulling away from his girlfriend, Drew, from the Aphrodite Cabin. She was biting her lip, and still holding his hand, her arm extending outwards the farther away he got. She looked like she was asking him to not fight, or something. He looked reluctant to part with her, but it was in our nature. Even some silly love goddess' daughter couldn't do anything about that. I could hear the other arguments- some which had gone past just the chariot race's winnings.

"MR.-" Mark started to call, hands cupped around his mouth to make himself louder, when suddenly there was a bright flash of light. We all shielded our eyes. I lowered my arm and turned back to face the big house. A few other people were still squinting, and I heard more than a few, "Oh!"s.

My dad, with his leather biker jacket and sunglasses covering his flaming eyes, was standing in front of us. Well, sort of. He was more of a projection, and he was floating. He was much larger than normal humans, but smaller than his large Mount Olympus form. If I focused hard enough, I could see that he was almost see-through, like a projection.

He laughed, and it was like rocks grinding over gravel. "Look at this! I show up and my kids are in the middle of a fight! I taught them well!" a few of us shifted around uncomfortably. He hadn't taught us anything, but damned if we'd say it. My dad scowled, and a few people flinched. I held my ground.

"Uh huh," he said. We exchanged glances and a few confused shrugs. We didn't know who he was talking to, "Red!" he barked, searching the crowed for me. He found me, and narrowed his eyes, sizing me up. I stood tall, back straight, tin tilted up defiantly. He seemed to like what he saw, because the next thing out of his mouth made me grin, "You're going on a quest," he hiked his thumb backwards over his shoulder.

I looked him in the eye and said, "I accept," like it was a challenge, and with my dad, it had to be. He held my gaze.

He laughed again, "You have guts, kid. I can see you're mine," I kind of felt like I was going to pass out, and everyone who wasn't from my cabin or Percy, was looking at me like I was crazy. So I did the smart thing.

I smirked and said, "Obviously."

"Don't get too cocky," he huffed. "You haven't heard what the quest is."

I faltered. I _hadn't_ heard what the quest was. I could be stealing cows of Apollo, or I could be asked to battle legions of the undead on the river Styx. Although I wouldn't know why my dad would need me to do either of those things. I nodded.

"You have to fetch three of Hera's golden apples," he said, holding up three fingers. I slouched in disappointment. Heracles had already done this, as well as Luke. I hadn't known Luke personally, but that guy had some pretty bad stories floating around about him. And I'd fought against his army. "But you can't get them from Mount Orthrys."

I was dumbfounded, "What?"

"That's what I said, kid. You have to find them somewhere else."

"But… how?"

"Can't say!"

I frowned, and Dad spoke again, "I think that's- huh?" he said, turning to the left, as if he was listening to some invisible person. "Yes dear, right," he grumbled. He turned back to me, then let his gaze wander over the crowed, till he settled on someone in the distance. "Oh, and take him. And no one else. Or else," he said, pointing.

"Me?" a familiar voice squeaked. Mark looked shocked, pointing to himself. My dad tilted his head in acknowledgement. If it were possible, Mark went even paler. He swallowed, and nodded. I frowned. Did he really hate me that much?

My dad started to disappear, but as he faded, he said, "Take a walk! Go to Atlanta! That's all I can tell you!"

It didn't occur to me till later that he might have said 'Atalanta,' not the city.

-xxx-

After my dad disappeared, we consulted the Oracle. She spouted absolutely useless things about going south to the land in drought (Atlanta, probably) and trading gold for gold. We were baffled. So we parted ways, and went to pack. We decided to leave late that afternoon.

As my sibs piled into our cabin to help me pack (really to throw things at my head and give me pointers on how to blow shit up) and wish me off (probably call out suggestively and take bets on whether I'd come back alive,) I debated the best way to kill myself so I wouldn't have to suffer through days of Mark. The ways were getting more and more creative the longer I stood there. It wasn't that I didn't want to spend time with him- I was in love with him, after all- it was that I might make a really big mistake and accidentally tell him or something.

My oldest brother- the one who had been fighting with the little Athena girl- walked up to me and winked. He made suggestive gestures and said, "Gonna get some, bro?"

I swallowed, and knew he was only goading me, "What?" I asked slowly, continuing to stuff my weapons and (probably) clean clothes from my trunk into the ratty backpack.

He leaned in close, leering, the stench of his breath in my face, "You think we don't know?"

"Um," I said. One of my siblings guffawed.

My brother patted me on the shoulder, sobering up for a moment, "Seriously, kid. We might look like we'd give a fuck, but you're a son of Ares. Don't let anyone give you shit about it. Kick their asses if they try."

I stood gaping at him, and I'm sure I looked stupid, but all I could think was, _"_Oh shit they know I'm gay."

I didn't realize I'd said it aloud till I heard another bark of laughter, and someone said, "No shit Sherlock. We live with you."

"Uh," I floundered, "I… um okay," I said, hardly knowing what I was agreeing to. My brother laughed, along with half of the cabin, and patted me on the back.

"Go kill some shit for us," a few of my siblings patted me on the back (hard) as I stumbled out the cabin to meet up with Mark in front of his cabin. The door slammed shut I arrived, giving me only enough time to see that his cabin was filled almost entirely with stacks of books and papers. _Way_ too much reading for my demigod mind.

Mark was standing in front of his cabin, watching me with his ice-gray eyes. His blonde hair was tousled from the light breeze, sunlight dancing on it, making it almost glow.

-xxx-

**In case you're wondering, this story probably isn't going to be very many chapters. Most likely five at most. It's the love story of Mark and Red. **

**ALSO, as you may notice, Mark is a son of Athena. "****Mark of Athena****" ring any bells? Ironically, I created the character of Mark during the winter of 2010, long before the Mark of Athena book ever had a title. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Here's where my normally useless knowledge of airports comes in handy. Be warned, I don't actually know much about the airports in NY other than the few times I've stopped there. I do know more about the Atlanta airport than almost anyone on the planet, though. **

-xxx-

My friends did end up hooting suggestively, shouting, "Go get some!" and they didn't _not_ mean monsters. My face burned knowing there was actually something behind their taunting. Oddly, though, it was Mark who's face was the reddest. He pointedly tried not to look at me, which only made it more obvious. I guess he was embarrassed to be included in that.

We climbed into the back of the white camp van that said DELPHI STRAWBERRIES on the side, and sat crouched on the floor next to each other. I dropped my spear and sat down onto my backpack, probably smashing the ambrosia inside. I was lucky to not have been stabbed with the collapsible sword in it. Mark dropped down next to me with a huff, nearly sitting on my spear.

"Shouldn't you have a flaming double-bladed axe or something?" Mark grumbled, and then ignored me for the rest of the trip to the airport.

-xxx-

On our first steps off the van- stiff from sitting in one position for so long- I took a deep breath and looked around. It was my first time really leaving camp for six years. Of course, I'd been on field trips to places like Mount Olympus in the winter (which was really fucking cool although I won't be caught dead telling anyone, and if I was, they wouldn't hold it against me. That place is sick, dude) but it wasn't the same. I'd missed the real world. It didn't look much different from camp, actually- the same blue sky, the same sweltering heat- but it's the real world- where you can fight monsters and find out if you're any good. New York had never been my city. I liked the rage of it, but I grew up in Arizona. I liked big, wide-open spaces.

When I turned back to Mark, he was watching me with his calculating eyes. It should have been unsettling, but I shivered for a very different reason. A gust of refreshing wind tousled his blonde hair playfully, which snapped me out of it. I turned to the bustling crowd around the front of the airport, which were moving in and out of the automatic doors.

Mark shielded his eyes from the sun and said, "Ready?" I nodded. I'd only ever been on a flight twice before, to visit my grandparents in South Dakota when I was seven.

We walked up to the Delta ticket counter (I don't know if that was intentional, or a coincidence,) where a busty woman in a uniform was standing. The airport ticket counters- if you've never seen them- are these long counters with computers and employees every few feet, and a row of TV screens up top announcing which employee can do what for you. There was a place to wait in line, but there was no one waiting, so we just walked up to the counter carrying our bags.

The airport seemed pretty empty, only a few people- a family with kids, two business people, and what looked like a rugby team on steroids (or the Ares cabin, but I didn't recognize anyone, so I didn't think they were my siblings)- were around. I didn't know how we were going to afford two tickets to Atlanta, because there was _no_ way Chiron sent us with enough money, because plane tickets cost like a million dollars and I don't think they take twenties or golden drachma. But Mark slid up, and suddenly, it was like seeing him in a whole new light. Camp Half-Blood was his element of course, it was the only place really safe for us, but _this_, doing business it seemed, was his _other _element.

"I want to purchase two tickets for the three-fifty flight to Atlanta," he told her. He was standing with his back straight, and the apparent hostility from earlier seemed to have been sucked away.

She sized him up, but he held her gaze, and she deemed him worthy or something, because she nodded, "And how are you paying for this?" He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a leather wallet. I'd never seen it before, but that didn't mean much, I didn't exactly spend a lot of time with Mark before now.

"Will this be fine?" he asked, holding up a silver card. As he handed it to the woman, it caught the light, and I saw it had a silver owl pattern on it. I wondered if that was something from his mom, or a sentimental thing from his dad.

"That's excellent," she said, "Do you have a form of ID?"

"Oh! Right, sorry, here," he said and handed her what I think was a drivers license. She took it and typed in a few things on the computer, looking down at the card and license every few seconds. She glanced up at Mark.

"What's your full name?"

"Mark Logan Clemens," he said, and she nodded, verifying. She looked expectantly over at me, but Mark was the one who spoke.

"What's your full name, Red?" Mark asked. I mumbled my name, but neither of them heard. The ticket lady leaned over the counter, her boobs pressing into the top, almost spilling from her shirt as she tried to hear me. "What?" he asked. I sighed.

"Redford March Venn," I grumbled, not looking at either of them. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the lady lean back over to her side of the counter with an eyebrow raised, typing in my name.

"And your birthday?" she asked, looking at me.

"December third, nineteen ninety seven," I'd be turning seventeen in December, but for the next six months I'd be sixteen still. I hoped she wouldn't ask for an ID, because I didn't have one. Camp was the best and everything, but since we didn't go anywhere, we didn't need one. And Argus didn't really give driving lessons, so no driver's license either. I'd driven a few times, when Hermes campers would sneak out and "borrow" the camp vans or SUVs on occasion. I seemed to be spared from humiliation by her focus on checking us in.

After another minute of her typing, she asked, "Checking any bags?" She was eyeing our bright orange backpacks.

Mark and I looked at each other and a wordless "_No way in hell," _passed between us. We looked up at the lady, who was staring intently at our bags, and she looked as if she was starting to see what was really in them. Mark and I looked at each other again, and he politely said, "No thank you, these are both carry-on."

She was still focused on our bags and a look of realization dawned on her face, "Oh my-"

Mark quickly snapped his fingers and said, "We'll have those tickets now, please. There's nothing of concern in our bags."

Her eyes were glazed over as she nodded along to what he was saying, as he manipulated the Mist. He looked like he'd done it quite a few times before. She snapped out if it, and looking flustered, she said, "Oh my, here are your tickets! Don't let me forget them!"

Mark took them and we walked towards security. We walked in silence, but Mark was stealing glances at me. I sighed, and was about to demand he say what he was thinking, when he spoke.

"Redford March Venn ?" he asked incredulously, shifting his backpack on his shoulder.

"It was after my dad," I mumbled, looking at the ground.

"What?" Mark asked.

"March. The month was named after my dad. Because Mars was his roman name, and they like war a lot in Rome."

Mark just looked at me like I'd grown two heads, "_I_ know that, I just didn't think _you'd _know that, being a son of Ares after all."

I scowled, "We're not _all_ stupid."

I couldn't tell what the look on his face meant, but after a moment, he said, "I like it."

I stopped. Mark a few feet ahead of me, and turned around. I said, "Don't fuck with me."

His eyes widened, "No, no! I'm not! I promise. I really like it."

I searched his eyes, and other than the little bit of fear I saw (which tended to happen a lot when I was dealing with people and Mark was the last person I wanted afraid of me. I scowled,) there was nothing in his eyes that said he was lying.

-xxx-

We got through security pretty easily. We put our weapons and backpacks on the conveyor to go through security, and I don't know what they saw, but they started checking through our stuff. A guy in his late forties a few rows over started looking at us, and I get the feeling he saw exactly what was in the bags. Everyone else just rolled their eyes at the hold up. The airport security guys started talking among themselves, looking at our bags.

One woman eyed me nervously as she walked over to us. I crossed my arms and frowned, and she flinched. I smirked. Mark shot me a look and I shrugged.

"I'm sorry, but you can't bring these-" she started, standing straight in her TSA uniform. Mark cut her off with a snap of his fingers. She and the other TSA guys got a blank look on their faces. Mark looked like he'd had a lot of practice bending the Mist.

"It's fine. These are just…" he looked at me, "Lacrosse sticks. A lot of lacrosse sticks."

They nodded dumbly and let us pass.

-xxx-

The flight was pretty decent. Mark and I pretty much ignored each other. He looked out the window and read some advanced trigonometry book. I dug into those little packets of peanuts and other things they brought us, then watched a movie on the little screen on the back of the chair.

We were sitting in first class, which is apparently the really expensive section of the airplane that looked solely saved for guys in suits reading newspapers, rather than two kids in ratty orange tee shirts. I really didn't know how we afforded that, because my mom wouldn't have ever let me spends like a million dollars on plane tickets for me and a friend. I asked Mark about it, but he got this look on his face, like he didn't know how to tell me, and then said, "I'll tell you later."

-xxx-

After the flight landed, we gabbed our bags from under the seat, and rode the subway type of train to the baggage claim gate- where you got your bags if you checked them- and then rode up the really long escalator to baggage claim. There was a row of people held back by ropes, most of which were hired drivers holding signs, although a few were family members of people getting off the plane. Mark's eyes were scanning the crowed, when they landed on a man in a suit and cap- looking every inch the limo driver he probably was. The sign he was holding had CLEMENS written on it. My hand instinctively clenched around my spear. I stepped slightly in front of Mark. I knew he could protect himself but I couldn't help it.

"Mark?" I asked, turning to him. The man holding a sign with Mark's last name might have been a coincidence, or some clever monster's trick, but by the sheepish look on Mark's face, it wasn't.

"My dad lives just outside of Atlanta, I guess my dad called him," he told me.

"How'd he know we were going to be in town?"

"He probably saw the activity on the card and saw that we were coming to Atlanta." I opened my mouth to ask how he figured that out, but I snapped it shut. That was a guy that Athena fell in love with. He was probably ten kinds of genius. My mom had worked in a shop that dealt with Civil War replicas, and she liked to go to those reenactments. She'd been Florence Nightingale more times than I can count, which is how she had caught the attention of my dad.

He waved to the driver, who grinned, and waved us over, "Mark," he nodded.

"Greg!" he said. I released my grip on my sword. It was clear they knew each other well.

"Shall we be going?" Mark nodded. We followed the driver out to the limo, and as we were walking, Mark told me that Greg was his father's usual driver, and a friend to them both.

-xxx-

Greg pulled out of the lot, and started driving us out of the airport. He looked back at us through the mirror, and his the corners of his eyes crinkled. His mouth was turned upwards, and he asked, "Home so early? And who's this you brought with you?"

"Red. A friend from camp."

"A friend?" he asked, and his eyes fucking twinkled. Mark blushed furiously, and I sat there dumbly.

"Yes!"

The driver cracked a wry grin and said, "If you say so."

We rode in silence for a few minutes. We were sitting in the back seat, next to each other, both of us looking out our windows. The little window separating us from the driver was still open, and I could see the back of his neck and hat. After ten or so minutes, the driver spoke.

"Where to, Mark?" he asked, then added, "Your father said to visit him if you have time."

Mark sat forward, "He's in town? Isn't the ANZAAB book fair going on right now?"

The driver nodded, "It was canceled last minute. Something about the hall it's normally held in."

Mark sighed and sat back, "That was always a good one. I guess there's always next year."

"Any particular destination in mind? Or shall I just drive around in circles all day?" he asked.

"Well, I was thinking we could start with-" he stated, but I cut him off.

"Mark," I said, still looking out the tinted window. "Get out. _Now_."

"What? Why?" he asked, with wide, confused eyes.

"Just go!" I shouted hastily, reaching over him to open the door, and pushing him out. I rolled out after him. A few seconds later, the car exploded, and a drakon barreled towards us. Still in shock, Mark sat down in the grass and watched me fight it blankly. I don't remember much of the fight, just flashes. I didn't get hit with any poison, and somehow managed to have the bastard avoid hitting Mark too. My spear- the only weapon we had left, since our bags had been in the trunk of the car- broke in two, but I had enough of it left to kill the drakon. As it dissolved into dust, I walked over to Mark, and made sure he was okay.

I pulled him up, but he was still staring at the wreck of the car. We were on a side road, and no on else seemed to be around. I walked over to the burning wreck, to see if Greg was still alive. I knew he wasn't, but I had to do it, for Mark. He was the type of guy who would want to know for sure. It was stupid. I didn't even know why I was doing it. Mark wasn't interested in me, and wouldn't ever be, but one look at him and my stupid resolve dissolved.

All that was left was the smoking metal, which I started moving out of the way. After a particularly large piece, I see the charred remains of a skeleton. I turned to Mark, who was following me with his eyes, and shake my head.

He sat down and covered his mouth, and said, "Oh my god."

I sat down next to him. He looked so miserable that I put my hand on his shoulder in comfort. He looked at me gratefully. After a few minutes he stood up, and wiped his eyes, holding out a hand for me. I took it. When he pulled me up, we were only a few inches apart. I could feel his breath against my mouth. He sucked in a breath, and his eyes were locked on mine. I wasn't sure what was happening, when he stepped back, and got a guarded look on his face.

"If I'm correct- and I usually am- then there's a gas station about a mile from here. We can use the phone there really quickly. I think I know where we can go."

-xxx-

The taxi driver dropped us off at the gates, and Mark paid him with the little bit of cash he'd had in his pocket. We were standing in front of the biggest place I'd ever seen- what looked like a plantation. Or what one would have looked like without the farming or anything. The yard was like a million acres and down a path that went on for half a mile, there was a huge, several-story white mansion, with pillars. They weren't Greek, more of the Civil War type of plantation pillars, and everything else matched. The gates were ten feet tall and silver. Mark pushed one open, and held it out for me to walk inside, shutting it behind me.

I started dumbly at the plantation, with the trees dotting the path up to the house, "You live _here_?"

Mark smiled proudly, "C'mon, lets go see inside."

I followed him up the hill to the house. As we passed the garden, he waved to an older black man kneeling in the flowerbeds, in overalls and a straw hat. He whispered to me, "That's Clark, he's the gardener."

Mark walked over to the big oak doors, and opened them, ushering me inside. I stood and gaped at the entrance. The front hall was bigger than my whole house, with dark wood and other expensive things, like chandeliers and paintings. To the right there was a parlor, the left a dining hall. Past the dining room's archway, there was a stair case to the left, which Mark ran by, then disappeared down a large hallway to the right. He nearly ran into a squat Spanish woman in a grey maid's uniform.

"Oh Meester Marrrrk! You weren suppose to be home yet! I don't have your room ready!" she said, after getting over the shock of almost being run into by a sixteen year old boy.

"Rosa!" Mark laughed and hugged her. "We're not staying long. How's dad?"

She shook her head and said, "If _I _was not here, your father would forget to eat!" She smiled and patted his cheek, "I see you soon, yes? You always come back from that summer camp so tired!"

He smiled and nodded. She passed us, humming something. After she disappeared around the bend, I asked, "Who was that?"

"Our housekeeper."

"Housekeeper?"

"They're- the staff- they're like family- it's always been like that. They've been here since before I was born. Some of them even knew my mom- they were here while she and my dad were together. They used to tell me stories about her when I was young- she used to spend a lot of time here with him, when he wasn't at the university."

I paused for a moment, then asked, "Do they know you're a demigod?"

Mark shook his head, "No, but they suspect."

He turned to double doors along the hall. On the walls, there were doctorates, degrees and PhDs, certificates and awards. Next to the left door, there was a single photograph. It was of Athena, I'm sure, since the woman in the photograph looked just like Mark, except she had black hair. She was standing in front of the doors her photograph was next to, except they were open, revealing a library. Athena was wearing a white blouse and black slacks that cut off mid-calf. The curve of her mouth was turned upwards, and she was looking towards the person taking the picture. She looked just like Mark when he smiled.

I turned to him, and he was looking at the picture. He nodded towards it, "My mom."

I nodded. I paused, then decided to tell him about mine, "Mine was killed by monsters a few years ago. After a fight we had. That's why I live at camp all year."

He looked at me, and his eyes were full of genuine sorrow, "I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

"Now," he said, "Ready to meet my dad?"

-xxx-

Inside the library, it looked like a- well, a library- had exploded. The shelves were overflowing with books. There were rows and rows of shelves, with more books piled on top of those shelves, others crammed into every nook and cranny. There were a few display cases at the end of the wall, with what looked like paper from before my mom was born, back in like, the Civil War, when there was black and white TV. There were a bunch of stacks of books, some higher than my waist, some towering over even the shelves. There was a mound of them in front of us. Half the books seemed to be in another language- it took me a moment to realize that they actually _were._

"Are those in Greek?" I whispered. He nodded.

"My dad speaks it."

When I first saw Mark's dad- well, I really didn't _see_ him, that was the thing- I wasn't all that surprised. He was buried in a stack of books, with only his blonde hair sticking up. When he heard us whispering, he said, "Rosa, I _told _you-" he stuck his head up over the top of the stack of books, and when he saw his son, his eyes lit up, "Mark!"

Mark broke into a grin and said, "Hi, Dad."

Mark's dad stood up. He looked like a mad scientist, with blonde hair sticking up in a lot of different directions, large glasses falling off of his nose, and a white lab coat. Why he was wearing a lab coat in a library, I didn't know. He stuck out his hand, "I'm Walter."

I didn't take it- I didn't like to shake hands. "Red."

"He's a son of Ares," Mark explained. Walter nodded soberly like he knew exactly what that meant, taking back his hand.

"I'll be with you in a second!" he said suddenly, running off, "I just have to find this first edition Journey to the Center of the Earth, first!"

Mark leaned in and whispered, "It's been missing since before I was born."

"It just came to me where I last saw it!" he said excitedly. We nodded like he was going to find it.

Mark picked up a book from the nearest pile, looking down at it. It was one of the Greek ones, a book on Greek mythology.

"When I was little," Mark explained, "my dad would read them to me. I learned English practically as a second language. I've known Greek since I was born- I could already read and write it when I went to camp. I learned to read with these books. When I was young, my dad and I would read the Greek myths together he'd always had a particular fondness for Athena," Walter chuckled from somewhere in the library. "I realized when I was eleven that he was in love with her. So I asked him about it."

I sucked in a breath, "And what did he say?"

"I told him the truth," Walter spoke up from my right. I turned to see him sit on a pile of books higher than my waist. "I figured that since he was eleven, monsters would start coming around soon," his face darkened, "and some already had. I've always been able to see through the mist, and I procured some Celestial Bronze to line his crib with when he was a baby, after he was almost attacked by a Hell Hound. A Hell Hound! In my own house! Attacking _my_ son!" he said angrily. "Well anyway… I told him of his mother- who she really was, anyway. I'd been telling him about her for years- and he went to camp that summer."

"Just like that?" I asked. Mark nodded.

His dad studied me for a moment, then asked, turning to his son, "What happened at camp?"

"We've been sent on a quest. Well, it's Red's quest. His dad just made me come along."

His dad raised an eyebrow, "I'm glad you came to see me while you were here. How's Greg?" Mark opened his mouth, then shut it. His dad's face fell. "Something happened, didn't it?"

He nodded. I spoke up, "We were attacked. Which is why we don't have any supplies."

Walter nodded seriously, "You've come to the right place."


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey guys! I just wanted to know, are any of you actually from Georgia? **

-xxx-

"… and here's the Ambrosia and Nectar storage cabinets- they only have to be refrigerated if you want them cold- there's probably actually a few canisters in the fridge right now," Mark told me, gesturing to a few cabinets, and then to a fridge.

"What- how'd you get all that? You can't have taken it all from camp."

"… Hermes has a really good dollars-to-drachma exchange rate. And there was a discount on Nectar and Ambrosia," he shrugged and moved on. I just stood there watching him as he pointed out all the other supplies- and he had everything a demigod would need _ever _and I just thought, dumbfounded, _'Wow, I love this boy.' _He turned around, laughing, a moment later.

"A lot to take in, huh? C'mon, lets go check out the armory."

-xxx-

Even with all of that stuff in the other room, I had expected a few swords and a chest plate in the 'armory'. But what I found was a _full _Greek armory, like they were ready to go to war at any minute. I would have killed for an armory like that at my house.

The room he took me to was large, but almost completely full. Along one wall was the armor. There was everything a demigod would ever need, and not just in Mark's size. On dummies, there were complete sets of armor- some were bronze, others leather- breastplates, greaves, vambraces, tunics, and helmets of bronze, some with red plumes, others with blue. Hanging on the wall above them, were the shields- tower shields, which were long and rectangular, figure-of-eight shields, where were figure eights, and proto-Dipylon shields, which were circular. Some of them were silver, with the symbol of his mother, an owl, others had symbols of other gods, or were replicas of famous heroes' shields.

Along the adjoining wall were the weapons. Bows and arrows, swords, daggers, spears, you name it- and yes, flaming, double-bladed battle axes. I knew Mark preferred a sword, but he had a fully functional arsenal. He knew it's good to be prepared- his mom's the war goddess after all.

Mark stood with his hands on his hips, smirking as I looked over everything with my jaw dropped, "Great, right?"

"Yeah," I managed to croak. It was a fucking child of Ares paradise. He smirked, but then his expression softened.

"I knew you'd like it."

"I _definitely _like it."

"Wait till you see the backyard- my dad told me I could have everything in the front yard if I wanted, but I told him Clark would probably get mad if I stormed through his flowerbeds in full armor, being chased by empousai. And the neighbors would probably think we were more than just _eccentric _billionaires. They'd probably graduate to calling us crazy, even," he told me noncommittally. "Take whatever you need, there's probably even some armor that's your size in there somewhere, if you want it."

He turned to look over the celestial bronze swords, while I picked over the armor and spears. When I found one that fit right, I moved over towards Mark. I decided against the armor. It was heavy, and yeah, while it was helpful, it wasn't very practical.

"Find everything?" he asked. We'd already filled up two backpacks from the other room with medical supplies and ambrosia.

"Yeah," I told him. After a moment, he turned to me, and I said, "Thanks."

He seemed confused, asking, "What for?"

I gestured to around the room, "For showing me this. It's really cool."

He smiled, "Any time."

-xxx-

After that, he took me outside to the practice field and obstacle course. There were a lot of semi-normal things, like monkey bars and a jungle gym, but demigod things too- a replica of the lava wall at camp (I couldn't see any lava on it, so it might have just been a normal wall, or it could have just been turned off,) a forge (separated from the house, in case it exploded or anything. It's happened,) well-used dummies in armor, an archery range, things like that.

"Want to go a few rounds?" Mark asked, "We can't leave tonight, it's almost dark. We'll have to stay here through the night, I hope you don't mind."

"Bring it," I told him, and we took off. We did a few rounds racing on the obstacle course, then had a few sword-fighting matches, and did a little target practice with both arrows and javelins. At around nine, we tumbled into the grass, tuckered out and out of breath.

-xxx-

The next morning, I woke up to the smell of eggs and bacon. I changed back into the clothes I'd been wearing the day before, since I sleep in my underwear, and made my way downstairs from the guest room I'd slept in. In the kitchen, Mark looked up from his plate at the table as I walked in- he was wearing a fresh tee-shirt and jeans. Behind the counter, cooking, was Mark's dad. I couldn't tell if he'd slept at all, since he looked exactly as he had the day before, same clothes, same lab coat, same glasses perched on his face, with the messy look he always seemed to be sporting.

"Red!" Walter said cheerfully, "grab a plate!" he told me, holding out a plate of eggs and bacon. Behind him, toast popped up from one of the toasters. He hesitated for a moment, "You do eat meat, right?"

"Yeah," I told him, taking the plate.

"Excellent!" he said, grabbing the toast from behind him, popping a piece into his mouth. I sat down beside Mark, who was chewing on a piece of bacon. His plate was almost empty, so I guessed he was up a few minutes before me. Glancing to the left, I took in what was like, a hundred years of National Geographic magazines.

"Um, Mark, why are there a million issues of that in the dining room?" I asked. He looked over to what I was pointing to, and hastily swallowed the bacon.

"My dad's a professor during the year, but during the summer, since I'm not around anymore, he mostly spends his time library-diving, and going on expeditions for rare encyclopedias or other scarce sources of knowledge. Last year he came back with three authentic maps from the revolutionary war," Mark informed me like it was a perfectly normal thing for a parent to do while their child was away at camp. "He got those at a yard sale a few days ago from an older woman in Fayetteville. I think her granddaughter is a demigod."

"Right. Of course he is," I said. I took a few bites, before asking, "Where are we going?"

"I was thinking we should start with Georgia State University," he informed me, as I heard more toast pop up behind us. "They have one of the biggest tracks in Atlanta, and your dad told us to '_Take a Walk._' right?"

I nodded. I hadn't really thought too much about what he'd said, although I probably should have. Sitting down across from us, Walter put the plate of buttered toast and biscuits, along with some weird food in a bowl, on the table.

"What's that?" I said, and I probably had a look of disgust on my face, because Mark and his dad exchanged looks and burst out laughing.

Mark put his hand on my shoulder and said, "That's grits. Welcome to Georgia."

-xxx-

Walter called us a cab, which dropped us off in front of the track at the school. No one seemed to be using it, so we walked towards it. When we went inside, passing the concession stands, our attention was called to a particular stand.

"Boys," a woman cooed from a concession stand. Her dark hair was swept over her shoulder, and she was wearing sparkling diamond bracelets. She was pretty, I guess, for an older person. She looked like she could be someone's mom, though. I couldn't read the sign above her head saying what she sold, my dyslexia was making the letters swim, "Care for anything?" Her accent was nice, but I wasn't sure where it was from.

We looked at each other, and against all demigod common sense, I asked, "Um, what are you selling?"

She laughed, and it sounded like the tinkling of bells. "Oh lots of things," she said, pointing to objects on the shelves behind her, with red-painted fingernails, "let's see... Oh yes- 'Atalanta, Tour of 2014' shirts, water bottles, my trademark sunscreen- which has SPF ranging in the low teens to the high thousands, and a plethora of scents- poison- this is only a branch, so I don't have everything ready made here, if you want I can mix up anything you might need. My actual department store is in Chicago- if you're ever in town, stop by! You can apply for a repeat customer's discount." Mark and I glanced at each other, and for the first time, my dyslexia registered what the sign said. MEDEA'S MERCHANDISE, AS USED AND APPROVED BY THE ARGONAUTS. She continued listing her products, "and," she leaned forward of the counter, looking between us, and I could have sworn that she could read my mind, because she said, "love potions."

"Um," Mark said, blushing, "No thanks. And doesn't Aphrodite have a copyright on those?"

"Oh curse that rumor, you don't know _how_ many people ask that."

"Aren't you that one lady who..." he was struggling to remember. He looked frustrated. He hates not being able to remember, especially about something as important as this. Mark glanced up at the sign and I'm sure he was coming to the same conclusion I had, "Jason's wife! You were Jason's wife, the sorceress Medea!"

She looked at us like she'd just tasted something bitter, "Don't speak his name," she spat. Her face was blazing with anger, it almost glowed.

"Um, right, yes," he said quickly. "I'll be taking a bottle of that SPF 5000 if you don't mind."

She perked up, "Oh lovely! That's my most popular one, I'll have you know! Which scent?"

"Um... Tropical breeze?" I shot him a look and he just shrugged like, _why not?_

She grabbed one of the bottles off the shelf, and put it in a bag, as Mark slid a few drachma over the counter, "Are you here to see Atalanta run?"

Mark's brow furrowed, and he asked, "What?"

"Atalanta, the fastest runner in the world- the owner of the three golden apples?" she said, looking at us as if it were obvious.

"Right, sorry, we've got to go!" Mark said, suddenly, grabbing my arm, dragging me behind him and onto the track.

The Georgia State track looked pretty much like any other track out there, except on one side, near the bleachers, was a lavish golden throne, with a young woman sitting on it. She was wearing a pair of neon green running shorts, and a white tank top with a piece of paper pinned to it- her number in a race. Around her were attendants, other people who look like they might start running a marathon at any minute. They were all huge- almost all of them were bigger than me, which was saying something.

"Oh my god!" Mark groaned, "It should have been obvious!"

"Um, what should have been obvious?" I asked. I wasn't exactly the best at Greek mythology. Useless. Unless it helped me fight, it was useless.

"When your dad told us to go to Atalanta, he didn't mean the city, he meant her! That's Atalanta, she's the fastest person in the world- in the myth, she was given three golden apples by a suitor who tried to beat her in a race!" He groaned again, "We can't just take them, look at those guys. And Chiron doesn't want us hurting mortals unless it's absolutely necessary."

"Then what do we do?"

He took a deep breath, "We take the direct rout. We ask her for them."

-xxx-

"No."

"But my lady-" Mark tried again, pleading. She held up her hand to silence him, her regal head tiled up as if she was too good for us. I clenched my fists.

"I will not give them to you, young demigod," she said, her voice accented from somewhere I didn't know. "They are a souvenir from a simpler time."

Mark paused for a moment, "You like making deals, right?" she nodded stiffly, "Then make one with us."

"What could you possibly offer me, young one?"

"We'll race you," one of her eyebrows shot up elegantly. "And if we win, we get the apples."

"And if I win?"

"Then you get the satisfaction of still being the fastest in the world," she seemed to be weighing her options, but then nodded.

"I accept. The race will begin in one hour."

We nodded, and trudged over to the other side of the track.

"How do we beat the fastest woman in the world?" Mark asked. Then, "Will you run? I've seen you run at camp. You're really good." I nodded, slightly dazed. He'd noticed? I was one of the best at camp, I'd continuously beat the nymphs in foot races, and they were always pressing me for a rematch.

"How did the guy beat her in the myth?"

"Um. I think he threw golden apples at her," he said sheepishly.

"But we don't _have_ any golden apples!" I cried.

"No we don't," he said slowly, "but I have an idea."

-xxx-

"How's your throwing arm?" Mark asked me, half an hour later.

"Pretty good," I said, flexing it, "Why?" Just then, Mark's dad came around the corner, lugging a huge wooden case. He waved. As soon as he got close, he opened the box to show us what he'd brought. "... Gold necklaces?"

Mark shrugged, "Girls like necklaces a lot more than apples. I figure that if you throw them at her during the race, she'd pick them up and get distracted, like the way she did with the original golden apples."

"You're brilliant," I told him. He blushed.

Mark's dad showed us the case of jewelry excitedly, almost bouncing where he stood, "I brought the entire Genevieve collection, I wasn't sure which ones you wanted."

"All of them," he told his dad, and started inspecting the necklaces. His dad nodded and peered over the open case. I didn't even stop to think about the fact they were willing to throw thousands of dollars worth of jewelry away. I'd come to see that money was no object for Mark's dad- he had more than the gods, and was willing to spend all of it for knowledge or to help Mark. He like, really, really loved his kid.

-xxx-

When the race was about to start, Mark and his dad started decking me in jewelry. Okay, yeah, I totally looked stupid with like, fifty women's necklaces around my neck and stuffed in my pockets, but it was for the quest. And Mark only looked like he was about to laugh a little bit.

The rings and smaller stuff went in my pockets first, then when they were full, they'd started dressing me in it. Mark's dad said, "Ya know, I like this guy! He doesn't complain!" Mark caught my eye as he was handing his dad another chain. He smiled warmly, and I couldn't help but smiling back.

"There!" Walter proclaimed, as he wrapped the final chain around my neck. Atalanta looked over from her entourage, and eyed us like we were crazy, whispering furiously to her attendants. A few of them jogged off, and another held the water bottle up so Atalanta could sip from it.

We both lined up on the track, and I was already sweating. I'd taken off my shirt, since it would only stick to me, and make me even hotter. The sun was blazing down on my shoulders, and I could already feel my tanned skin getting a sunburn. Mark's eyes traced my outline as I lifted one hand to shield my eyes. Beside me, Atalanta was stretching. I'd already done it, because if I tried anything, the jewelry would fall off.

One of the attendants, with the same accent, said, "On your marks!" and then a shot was fired. Atalanta took off, and was already far ahead of me. We'd agreed to three rounds, but she was already nearing half completion. I shot after her. Hoping my throwing arm was as good as I said, I reached in my pocket, and threw a handful of jewelry at her. A few bounced off her back, and she turned around, offended. She spotted the rings scattered around her, stopping to pick them up. The stands were going wild- I didn't know when they had arrived, or who they were, but they looked pretty thrilled to be there.

I caught up to her, and I was barely breathing hard. She looked up, outraged as I passed her. She stood up, and continued running. I threw a few necklaces- all gold, with shiny gems the size of my eyeballs. My mom probably spent less on our entire house. She knelt to pick them up, but every time she was finished she would just sprint ahead of me.

Deciding to throw them like a trail of bread crumbs, like in that old fairy tale my mom once read to me, was a lot better of an idea. She would bend down to pick them up every few seconds, leaving me permanently ahead. I was fifty yards from the finish line, with Mark and his dad cheering loudly, when I started to run out of jewelry, "Fuck," I cursed. Atalanta was at least half a lap behind me, but she was closing in fast. I was ten feet from the finish line when she was ten behind me. I looked at the last pieces in my hand, and threw them over my shoulder in a last-ditch attempt to slow her down. Because if I didn't win my dad would probably kill me. And Mark would be mad and I might have been a little more scared of an angry billionaire Athena kid than my dad (not that I'd every tell either of them that. Ever.)

I was breathing hard, but I surged forward, and with Atalanta on my heels, I crossed the finish line. The crowed was in an uproar. I'd won. One of the attendants held out the golden apples to Walter, who slid them in Mark's backpack.

Suddenly, Mark yelled over the crowed, "You won!" like he was really surprised, like he hadn't expected. He hugged me, and I hugged back- we realized what we were doing, and pulled apart, blushing. The crowed's roar was deafened, and all I could hear was my breathing, our eyes were locked. I wasn't sure what was about to happen, but we were suddenly interrupted by Atalanta.

She stormed over to us, fuming, "That is cheating!"

"I didn't see _you_ protesting as you picked them up!" Mark said, staring her down.

"That is not fair! Here, take them back!" she said, pulling them off, holding them out to us. She looked so upset I almost felt bad for her. Almost.

"No. We _won_ them," I said, crossing my arms. I was steal breathing hard. Mark's dad raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything as he handed back my shirt. He handed Mark back his pack as I pulled it on. I just realized I probably sweated all over Mark when he'd hugged me.

"You have five seconds to give them back," she said, but Mark only crossed his arms.

"It's been five seconds, what are you going to do?" he asked.

She looked over her shoulder, "Guards!" Mark paled.

"Run," I said.

"Guards!" she called again, but this time, more than just guards came out. Three Cyclopes followed them out, wielding clubs. I didn't know what the crowed saw, but it wasn't good, because they all started screaming and climbing over each other trying to get out.

"Run!" I shouted, pushing Mark. He stumbled, but I grabbed the strap of his backpack, pulling him up. His dad was separated from us in the crowed.

Atalanta was still barking orders, "Cover the airports! We cannot let them leave the city!"

"Dad!" Mark yelled.

"Mark!"

"Just go! We'll be fine!"

-xxx-

**Okay, sorter than I'd hoped. And- sorry- the fic may only be 4 chapters after all. I may go back and do some editing later, but I wanted to get this up before I left for the boonies where they don't have internet over winter break. **


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